Death Comes to Durham

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Death Comes to Durham Page 19

by Jeanne M. Dams


  ‘Oh, David, I’m sorry. I’ve not even started supper. I wasn’t expecting you until a bit later.’

  ‘I gave up.’ He plopped down in the chair Alan relinquished. ‘There is simply no facility within a reasonable radius where they would give Amanda the loving care she deserves. I’m going to have to move her to one of the horrid places to live out her last years in squalor.’ He was near tears. Tim put a glass in his hand. It had something amber in it. David downed it in one gulp.

  Alan was silent, but his body language was eloquent. He took several deep breaths, looked at the floor, the ceiling, his clasped hands. He pursed his lips, took one more deep breath, and spoke. His voice was quiet, but authoritative. ‘I’ve made a decision which may surprise you all. David, I’m going to tell you a story, a scenario. As a policeman, I recognize, as you will, that the story is thin. But between the two of us, we ought to be able to present it to Mr Williams in a convincing manner. At the very least, I think we can buy Amanda a bit of time.’ He explained in careful detail, from the very beginning as we saw it, Nathan’s death.

  ‘It’s certainly complex,’ he finished, ‘but I have come to believe that it hangs together. I propose to go with you to set the case before Mr Williams and ask him to give your great-aunt a stay of execution while the police continue to trace the man who ruined George Elliot’s house and who, we believe, was responsible for all the other crimes in the web.’

  ‘And to help in that trace,’ I said to Tim and Eileen, having recovered from my astonishment, ‘I’m sending both of you the picture of the jacket. The more people we have looking for the man who wore its duplicate, the better chance we have of finding him.’

  ‘Send it to us as well, love, and we can pass it along to Mr Williams. The kitchen staff already have it, but as Dorothy says, the more the better.’ Alan stood. ‘Now. I hired a car today, but yours may be nearer. Shall we?’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I kissed Alan as he left. I didn’t say a word, but he understood.

  ‘Well, that was an about-face!’ said Eileen. ‘I wonder why he changed his mind so suddenly.’

  ‘Amanda’s plight,’ I answered. ‘Alan tries hard to conceal it, but underneath that austere policeman’s façade is a heart of marshmallow. He couldn’t bear the thought of that sweet old lady losing her home. As long as he thought David might find another good place for her, he was sticking to his professional caution. Now that hope for that is gone, he had to act.’

  ‘Well, here’s to Alan!’ Tim raised his empty glass, and then offered us refills.

  ‘Now then,’ he asked when we refused anything more to drink, ‘what did this chap look like? The one who wore the jacket clone?’

  ‘We don’t know. That’s the worst part. The man in the chorus – we never did get his name – couldn’t say any more than that he was young and had what he described as a southern accent. And that he was a student. Our informant was certain of that, though his reasons were vague.’

  ‘A student.’ Eileen sighed. ‘That narrows it down to perhaps 18,000 people.’

  ‘Less,’ said Tim. ‘A lot of the students are women.’

  That struck us as funny, for some reason. We were getting punchy, I thought.

  ‘All right, a male student who lives somewhere south of, say, York. What did the man at the home say?’

  ‘Unfortunately he couldn’t tell us much, either. He was sure about the details of exactly when and where he saw the man, but he couldn’t describe him. Alan thinks it’s because he’s new to this country and surrounded by unfamiliar faces.’

  Eileen nodded. ‘That makes sense. I’m not good at describing people I don’t know well. All we have is the student category, then. If the chap was right.’

  ‘But there’s the almost certain fact that he is someone whom Nathan was blackmailing. Does that cut it down at all?’

  ‘No idea,’ they replied in chorus. ‘We didn’t know him, remember,’ said Eileen. ‘I’ll get busy asking my friend at Jude’s. Someone will know something. It will be easier when everyone comes back on Sunday. And now that we have more time—’

  ‘We hope!’

  ‘Yes, but I’m sure David and Alan will prevail. There’s not all that hurry now.’

  ‘No.’ But I said it sadly. Yes, unless something went badly wrong, Amanda was safe for a bit longer, maybe forever if Mr Williams could be made to see reason. But Alan and I didn’t have extra time. We were going to have to leave by Sunday, when our room in the castle would revert back to its rightful occupant. It was foolish of me, but I wanted to see this through.

  Ego, Dorothy! I scolded myself. It doesn’t matter who catches the murderer, only that he be caught.

  Tim, as Alan had noted, was very observant. ‘You want to do something more, don’t you?’

  ‘I do. But I can’t think what. It’s all in the hands of the police now, or will be as soon as David presents them with the new evidence. Scanty as it is.’

  ‘What about Nathan’s brother?’ asked Eileen. ‘You think his mother knows where he is.’

  ‘I’d bet on it. But she’s a difficult woman. I don’t think I can get her to tell me anything more.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Tim’s face fell into an expression so like Alan’s when he’s thinking hard, that I almost laughed. ‘People seem to like to talk to me. I wonder if she’s still in Auckland, or has she gone back home?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I have her phone number. You might try her, though I don’t know whether she’ll answer. I’m sure she won’t if I try. She has my number and she doesn’t like me.’ I pulled up the number on my phone and read it to Tim.

  Once the phone on the other end was ringing, Tim put his phone on speaker, gesturing us to silence.

  ‘Yes?’ That same wary tone.

  ‘Mrs Elliot, you don’t know me, but my name’s Timothy Hayes, I’m a student at Durham, and I knew your son Nathan.’

  ‘Yes?’ Slightly warmer.

  ‘We weren’t in the same college, but we met now and then, and the fact is – this is embarrassing – I borrowed some money from him.’

  Eileen and I looked at him in astonishment. He shook his head at us and continued.

  ‘And I never had a chance to repay him before he had that dreadful accident. So I was wondering. I just now came into a little money. That means I can pay back the loan, and I wondered if I should give it to you or his brother. He mentioned his brother to me, and I thought perhaps …?’

  He artistically left it hanging.

  ‘Hmph. Honest young man, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, you see, I’m a theology student, and …’

  Again, he let the sentence taper off.

  ‘I see. What did you say your name is?’

  He repeated it.

  ‘I never heard Nathan mention you. But then, he talked to me very little. Yes, he has a brother. He lives in Bishop Auckland, but he’s not there now. He’s taking a little break at the seaside. I can give you his address, if you’d like to send him a cheque. I’m sure he’d be delighted to have the money.’

  Eileen and I raised our fists in a silent cheer.

  She gave him the name of a hotel in Hartlepool and hung up.

  ‘Wow! You are a persuasive person! But what a lot of shocking lies!’ I shook my head in pretended dismay.

  ‘We’re told to be wise as serpents,’ he said with a grin. ‘And some of it was true. Of course I never met Nathan, let alone borrowed money from him, but that’s minor. The important thing is that we know where George is.’

  ‘If his mother is telling the truth,’ said Eileen. ‘I must say Hartlepool isn’t my idea of a seaside resort.’

  ‘But that’s an excellent reason for him to choose to go there,’ I pointed out. ‘It isn’t at all likely. Where is it, by the way?’

  ‘Not far from here at all. About – what would you say, Eileen? Twenty miles?’

  ‘About that. And nothing in particular to do when you get there.’

  ‘All right. Tim,
I think you’d better call David right away and have him call the police. They can follow up, and once they talk to George, we’ll know a lot more.’

  Of course, it wasn’t that easy. When David and Alan returned (with Indian takeaway), they caught us up to date, between bites.

  ‘Good news/bad news,’ Alan summed up. ‘We did manage to persuade Williams to put off any action with Amanda.’

  ‘Does she know that?’ I asked with a frown.

  ‘There’s no need to tell her,’ said David. ‘No one told her that she was going to be moved, so now there’s no point in telling her that she won’t be moved. It would only upset her, and she wouldn’t remember anyway. The staff will be told, and I know they’ll be happy about it.’

  ‘Okay, that’s the good news. Are we strong enough to hear the bad news?’ I tore off a piece of garlic naan and ate it.

  ‘The bad news is only provisionally bad.’ My husband paused for a mouthful of curried lamb. ‘The Durham police are not optimistic about finding George Elliot. It seemed the Hartlepool force is even more understaffed than most. The city has suffered severe budget cuts in recent years because of loss of major industries. It’s beginning to come back, but at present the police can deal only with critical matters. Finding a man who is charged with nothing, just to oblige another authority, is not a high priority. That’s not to say they won’t try, but they can only do so much. It may sit on a back burner for a few days.’

  ‘Oh, but if they don’t act right now, he might move on, and then it’s all to do over again!’ I put down my plate of chicken tikka masala, not hungry anymore. ‘It’s really frustrating!’

  David and Alan looked at each other, sighed, and stood up. ‘Ought we to call first?’ asked David.

  ‘I think not. We don’t want to scare him off. Either he’ll be there, or he won’t, and it’s not far away. Are you coming, light of my life?’

  ‘Try and stop me.’ I turned to Tim and Eileen. ‘Kids, I think you’d better not come this time. We don’t want to descend on George with a delegation. He’s in hiding, or so it seems, and until we know more about the situation we need to walk on eggs. We’ll keep you informed!’

  ‘And meanwhile,’ said Eileen, ‘I’m going to call Sarah, at Jude’s, and see what she can find out. Good luck!’

  ‘Do we have a plan of action?’ I asked when Alan had negotiated Durham dinnertime traffic and made it to the A181 heading southeast. ‘He went into hiding for a reason.’

  ‘Yes, and though we’re not sure of the reason, we can assume he was fleeing whoever came to his house that night. Ergo, that man posed a threat of some kind.’

  ‘We’ve assumed that the caller had something to do with Nathan’s death.’

  Alan sighed. ‘And it’s an almost totally unjustified assumption. Even if he did, how would George have known that? Or are you assuming that the chap knocked on his door and said, “Hello, I killed your brother”?’

  Of course, I ignored that. ‘So George is afraid of someone. A male. Does that mean that he’s less likely to run away if I go knocking at his door, rather than one of you? I don’t really look very threatening.’

  ‘That, my dear, is why I asked you to come along.’

  ‘That, and you knew I’d come anyway.’

  David snickered in the back seat.

  The day was waning when we came into Hartlepool. Even in northern latitudes, a May evening ends eventually. In the dusk I had to admit that the city wasn’t terribly attractive. Gigantic cranes silhouetted against the deep purple sky at the waterfront looked ominous, like monsters ready to devour all in their path. ‘Godzilla,’ I said, and pointed. I wasn’t feeling welcome in this place.

  Neither man laughed. They seemed intimidated, too.

  We found the hotel easily enough, a Victorian pile in the centre of town. Parking wasn’t difficult. Alan pulled into a space, shut off the engine, engaged the brake, and looked at us. At me.

  I sighed. ‘Right. My turn, is it? Anybody have an idea what I should say? If he’s here, that is.’

  ‘You might,’ said Alan mildly, ‘try the truth.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘You know about his brother’s death, you believe Nathan to have been pushed into the river, you heard that he had disappeared, and you were worried about him.’

  ‘And when he wants to know how I found him?’

  ‘I’m sure you can improvise something. But the truth there might not hurt either. His mother gave the information to a friend of yours.’

  ‘And then play it by ear. Very well. Are you coming in, or are you going to lurk out here?’

  ‘We’ll lurk in the lobby, or the bar, whichever seems less conspicuous. I don’t like the idea of you being in there entirely unaccompanied.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Very well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Pray for me.’

  I went in alone, David and Alan following after an interval, trying to pretend they weren’t with me. I went to the front desk. Mr Elliot? Yes, madam, he was still registered. Room 324. Certainly, madam. The lifts are just there.

  In an American hotel, I thought, or even in London, they wouldn’t have given me the room number. Perhaps they were less security-minded here, or else I simply looked too old and dotty to pose a threat. At any rate, they paid no attention when I turned in the direction of the elevators. I looked over at the men and finger-signed three-two-four. Alan nodded.

  I knocked at the door, half-hoping he wouldn’t be in. There was no answer for a moment, and my hopes went up, but then a man’s voice growled, ‘Yes? What is it?’

  ‘Mr Elliot, my name is Dorothy Martin. May I come in?’

  Silence. Maybe I should have lied and said I was the maid. But then he would have expected me to open the door with my own key. I waited.

  Eventually heavy steps sounded and the door opened a crack. ‘What is it? I’m busy.’

  ‘I can see that you are.’ I looked beyond him to the rumpled bed, the can of beer, the bag of crisps, the game show on the television screen. ‘I won’t be a moment. May I come in?’

  ‘I was getting ready to go out to dinner.’

  Really, the man should polish up his lies. Unless he didn’t care whether I believed him or not. ‘I won’t detain you. I want to say, first of all, that I’m very happy to find you in good health. A number of people have been very worried about you since your disappearance, you know.’

  I had raised my voice a trifle, and he pulled me hurriedly inside. ‘Here! You needn’t tell the world! Who are you, and what do you want?’

  Reasonable questions, actually, but they could have been phrased more courteously. However … ‘As I said, my name is Dorothy Martin. I live in Sherebury, in Belleshire. My husband and I came to Durham to visit with an old friend, Mr David Tregarth.’

  Recognition dawned. ‘The copper.’

  ‘Retired policeman, yes. He came to your house on Sunday evening, at your invitation, only to find you gone and your house in a shambles. Then he was set upon by a gang of rowdy men dressed as policemen, who did further damage to your house. When the real police arrived on the scene, can you wonder that they, and we, became very interested in your whereabouts? We weren’t at all sure you were still among the living! Why did you tell no one where you had gone?’

  ‘But you found out. How did you manage that? And why do you care? What possible business is it of yours?’

  This man was his mother’s son, all right. Ignoring his first question, I held onto my temper, and sat down, uninvited. ‘It is my concern because of your brother’s death. We believe he was killed, and that his murderer has also killed one other person, a defenceless old man.’ That was stretching a point, but never mind. ‘We further believe that the killer was the man who called on you on Sunday night and did such damage to your home.’

  ‘“We.” Who is “we”? Are you connected with the police?’

  ‘Unofficially, yes. And we, the police and several others, have been unable to find anyone who can
identify the killer. You saw him and talked with him. Who is he?’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  George dropped onto the bed smack on the bag of crisps, crushing them to bits. I swallowed a laugh.

  ‘I – I don’t know his name. He was a student, a friend of Nathan’s. I’d never met him before.’

  I’d had enough. ‘Mr Elliot, I taught school for many years in America. I’ve had a great deal of experience separating truth from lies. It is vital that we find this man, before he decides that someone else is inconvenient to him. His name, please.’

  ‘Why should I tell you? The man is dangerous. If he knows I told you, he might—’

  ‘He might, indeed. Which is why he needs to be apprehended. His name, Mr Elliot.’

  ‘You have no right!’

  ‘That, at least, is a true statement. You may certainly refuse to tell me. In that case I will remain here, further delaying your dinner, while Mr Tregarth and my husband, who are waiting downstairs, summon the police to come and talk to you. And they, sir, do have the right to ask you questions and require answers. They also have the duty to protect you once you’ve said your piece. It’s your choice. Tell me, or tell them.’

  Either my school-teacher persona intimidated him enough to overcome his cowardice, or he was too hungry to wait further for his meal. ‘Bloody hell! His name is Colin something. I don’t remember his surname. He’s a thoroughly nasty little toe rag, and I wish you joy of him. Now, get out!’

  I got. With alacrity.

  ‘I wish,’ I said with feeling, ‘that we could charge George with something! Talk about nasty!’

  ‘But you got a name out of him. Here’s to you, Dorothy!’

  He raised his glass. We were sitting in the lounge of the hotel, having (from a nice dark corner) watched George stomp out. David had a stiff Scotch; I was enjoying some excellent bourbon. Alan, who was driving, was sticking to soda.

  ‘A name,’ David repeated. ‘Only a Christian name, but it’s a start.’

  ‘It’s more than that,’ I said, purring.

  Alan looked at me suspiciously. ‘You’re concealing something, woman!’

 

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